Vignette 1: Knowledge Is Power
by Loafer
Summary: First in a (possible) series of one-shot vignettes where I just give in to the urge to write out an idea which has been hopping around bunny-like in my head. No pairing for this one, which is about a conversation between Lassiter and Vick.


**Disclaimer** : Talk to Steve Franks.  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Summary** : First in a series of vignettes, I guess, although I can't say when the next one will come. Occasionally I just get ideas for scenes—not whole stories, not even chapters, really, just _scenes_. Sort of "what if this happened…" even if I don't _know_ what would happen. These will all be Lassiter-centric. Possibly Lassiet. Possibly Karlton. Possibly OCs. Possibly pair-less. Here's number one.

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Karen glanced up when Carlton Lassiter closed her office door behind him.

He looked… neutral.

This wouldn't be good.

"What is it, Detective? And more importantly, how long will it take?" She had to leave for City Hall in twenty minutes.

"Not long." He sat in the chair across from her desk. "It's about Spencer."

She withheld the automatic eye-roll. This _definitely_ wouldn't be good. "Specifically?"

"I think we can agree that as a consultant, Spencer brings keen observation, a powerful memory, and often excellent deductive reasoning skills to the table." He paused for a moment. "I say 'often' because I can't _not_ factor in how many innocent people he wrongfully accuses on his way to the end zone."

She leaned back, curious now and trying to suss out exactly what was going on in the depths of the cool blue gaze meeting hers. When Carlton wanted to be inscrutable, he excelled. "All right. We can agree on that."

"I think we can also agree that unlike other consultants who _wait_ to be called in, he's a case-mongering narcissist who desperately needs all eyes on him, and I'm not just saying that because of how often he actually shouts 'all eyes on me!'"

Karen nodded, noting the half-smile he allowed to appear for a brief moment.

"You also won't argue," he said more slowly, "that he targets me. From the name-calling and personal insults to publicly undermining my credibility at crime scenes."

She kept her tone even. "I wish I _could_ argue that. It's one of his more regrettable attributes."

"I don't deny that I sometimes sink to that level myself, and I admit he brings out the worst in me—or rather, I _allow_ him to. But he also slings a little mud at you and O'Hara." He glanced away briefly, and she was glad she didn't have to look him in the eye just then. "From the inappropriate way he addresses her to, for example, how he takes over press conferences and essentially paints you and our team as pathetically helpless without his assistance."

She hadn't forgotten her frequent discomfort and annoyance, no, and the latter was back. "So did you come in here just to play Captain Obvious, or is there a more specific purpose to this closed-door meeting?"

Carlton leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What would you say to a world where, like other consultants, he's called in only when he's needed—because that's why police departments normally have consultants, to help out when we're stuck, or to provide some special expertise—and gave his assessments and theories quietly and efficiently without drama, dance numbers, or the need for a separate budget for damage control and food?"

Karen sighed. "I'd say that's a _dream_ world, Detective, one I'd like very much but don't expect to see in my lifetime."

"You recall that's how he got started. He used to call in tips for the reward money. No fuss, no drama. It was only when he seemed to regularly know too much that he got my attention, and by extension, yours."

"Yes. What is this _about_?"

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a voice recorder. "It's about this." Rising, he set the recorder on her desk and pressed the play button.

She started to feel dread even before the voices became clear.

" _Let's go pick up our check."_

" _Ooh, yeah. Then we can hit the food truck festival."_

" _Shawn, that's not how you're supposed to spend your paycheck."_

" _Dude. What other way is there? Food, fun, frolicking? Fajitas and frijoles, flapjacks and—"_

" _How about rent and utilities? Or put some back for health insurance? Or hell, a savings account? You're not getting any younger, and I can't support you forever."_

" _Why are you so worried about my finances now?"_

" _The Henderson case got a little too risky, Shawn. You almost got caught."_

" _I did not—"_

" _You did too. If you hadn't hidden that ballistics report in time, Lassiter would have had his proof you're not psychic."_

" _Nobody listens to him, Gus! Come on! I've had this gig for six years. Everybody buys it. Even Lassie buys it a little bit. It's like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. No one wants to look that closely."_

" _I don't know how you've pulled it off this long."_

" _Because I'm the best, that's how. Anyway, the information in the report was practically public."_

" _It was a SBPD file from an active investigation we hadn't even been hired for! You stole it off Juliet's desk while you had her chasing down a fake lead on the plumber!"_

" _I_ borrowed _it, and we do that all the time! What's the big deal?"_

 _"This is going to end badly, Shawn. Mark my words. And I know I'm going down with you when it happens, but the least you can do is show a little respect for our impending doom."_

Carlton turned the recording off and pocketed the device. He still looked neutral.

Karen's dread had converted itself to nausea.

And anger.

And angry nausea.

"How did you get—"

He interrupted. "Ignorance is bliss, Chief. I'm not playing it for anyone else."

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with... with _air_? With _vapor_?"

"I can't tell you what to do." He was still on his feet, and still seemed perfectly calm. "I can only tell you what _I'd_ do, which is use this information to stop the madness he inflicts on us every time we let him barge into a case and wreak havoc. I'd ask him what's most important to him: is it solving cases, putting criminals in jail, and incidentally getting paid for it, or is it being the center of attention while denigrating the entire police department? Because if it's about solving crime—which is why _I_ come to work every day—we're still going to have the occasional job for him. If it's about attention, he needs to take his circus act out of town."

Karen let out a breath, willing her pulse to return to normal.

Carlton smiled faintly. "Or you could do nothing. Your call. I'll never bring this up again either way, and I won't judge you for taking the path of least resistance. But now you know the truth, and that makes _four_ of us."

He was nearly to the door when she said his name, and turned back to give her a quizzical glance.

"What will _you_ do, if I choose to do nothing?" Because while he was a man of his word, Karen knew there would inevitably be some consequence to inaction on her part.

Shrugging, he studied the floor for a moment before turning his blue gaze back to her. "I suppose… eventually… I'd move on. I'll just get to a point where I don't want to play in his sandbox anymore. I mean, I _get_ it, Chief. Spencer's the most special case in the annals of Special Cases. No hard feelings if it comes to that."

Karen swallowed. "What…. what made you… obtain this recording _now_?"

Finally he grinned. "I have an enquiring mind."

He left the door standing open after he was gone.

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End file.
